


Quaint Honour

by Unsentimentalf



Category: Blake's 7
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-21
Updated: 2018-05-21
Packaged: 2019-05-09 19:27:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14722172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Unsentimentalf/pseuds/Unsentimentalf
Summary: Blake's been on theLiberatorfor just two weeks but he's already decided that he would like to get to know a certain member of his new crew a little better. The crewmember in question thinks that's an astonishingly pointless idea.





	Quaint Honour

"Drink?" Blake offered.

Avon slumped down into what was supposed to be a chair. "186."

Blake tapped at the console then sniffed appreciatively at the result. "That actually smells something like coffee. I've only got up to thirty one so far and they are all pretty terrible." 

"It's not just a numbered list." Avon said. "There are at least eleven independent scales for various tastes, thickness and heat as well as some concepts I don't think I want to understand. 186 is the nearest to black coffee that I've found so far."

"I suppose you don't have any idea how to generate white coffee?"

"Add twelves for sweetness and subtract sevens and fours for bitter and something a bit like creamy if you don't think about it too hard. If you go over 220 you'll need to multiply by thirteen over fifteen. God knows why." 

"Right." Blake said. "Maybe I'll have it black for now. I thought you said you'd made the galley human friendly?

"I made it human safe. Zen knows what our dietary tolerances are. Teaching the ship what humans actually like to eat and drink is a considerably more onerous task and I have other priorities."

He stretched a leg out awkwardly. "I'd give a great deal for a decent fitting chair though. We should stop off somewhere and beg, borrow or steal some." 

Blake had taken a second drink from the dispenser. "I've been working on that. There are a couple of re-engineered chairs in my quarters now that I promise are almost comfortable. We could take the drinks through there." 

"Or you could bring the chairs out here." Avon pointed out. "Unless you're desperate to keep them to yourself, of course. Though I distinctly remember you saying we were supposed to be a collective?"

"It's not that. I just thought it might be nice to chat somewhere a bit more private for a change." 

"Why in private?" Avon held out his hand and Blake reluctantly relinquished the cup. "For that matter, why chat at all?" 

Blake settled down in the chair facing him. "Well, _London_ wasn't exactly a good place to get to know someone and we've been a bit busy since. You're an interesting man, if a little hard to read, and I think we might be friends." 

"Friends?" What had made the man come up with that ludicrous idea? Unless... "Are you propositioning me?" 

"Certainly not!"

That reaction seemed a little overblown. "Is the idea that ridiculous?" 

"Well, no. Not at all, in fact. But we don't know each other nearly that well." 

They'd been on _London_ together for eight months and _Liberator_ for a couple of weeks. Long enough for anyone, Avon thought. Almost anybody  "You're a slow burner!" he said, amused. 

"You don't have to make it sound like a cult!" Blake protested. 

Fads and crazes weren't uncommon in the static environments of the Domes. Avon had never paid much attention to them but he could just about remember this one making the rounds. "No kissing until the fifth date and it's not a cult?" 

"It's not a set of rules. It's a frame of mind." Blake said. "One that you might appreciate if you tried it." 

Avon levered his way out of the chair. "Well I don't intend to try it. I imagine that your idea of intimate friendship would be excruciating enough even if the usual compensations were on offer. I'll see you next shift."

 

Avon had stopped thinking about sex when the subject had ceased to have any relevance, shortly after his arrest. Nothing about the particular situation on _Liberator_ had made him start thinking about it again. Jenna's half hearted flirtation with Blake was clearly more politic than sexual and not inclined to arouse feelings of lust in even the most ardent observer, which Avon was certainly not. 

He had been too busy trying to make sure that neither the ship nor Blake killed him with ignorance or stupidity to do more than dismiss his rag tag bunch of companions as unlikely prospects. If Blake had actually propositioned him, Avon would have taken a certain pleasure in slapping him down hard for the presumption. 

Nonetheless the discovery of Blake's unexpected attachment to ritual abstention was strangely aggravating. If it had been anyone else Avon would have dismissed it as just empty words, but he'd seen enough of Blake to know that the man stuck by his convictions, however ridiculous. 

And this one was ridiculous. When he'd been single Avon hadn't made much of a habit of hooking up with strangers because it was difficult to establish how annoying they were going to be until you were inconveniently committed to either at least half an hour in their company or creating something of a scene by walking out. His desire for sex seldom overrode his desire to avoid getting entangled with other people. 

That was a world away from the slow burner philosophy of seeking to establish mental intimacy before physical satisfaction. Mental intimacy was the last thing that Avon wanted from his future partners. One broken heart in a lifetime was quite enough. 

As for Blake, he ought to be grateful for a second glance, not that Avon intended to grant him one. If anyone might be in a position to insist on lengthy sexless courtships it would have to be someone a great deal more attractive than Roj Blake. Maybe the arrogance of the man was such that he really did genuinely think he could get away with it. 

Avon supposed that it didn't really matter what Blake thought. He turned over in bed and closed his eyes a little tighter. 

 

The next morning he walked through the rec room where Vila and Gan were lounging in green chairs with human-length seat widths, backs tilted at about 10 degrees backwards and very definite, proper height arms. 

"Blake made them," Vila called out as he passed. "Who would have thought he was good with his hands?" 

"Who would have thought that anyone would ever get a chance to find out," Avon retorted and moved on before they could ask him what he meant. 

On the flight deck Blake greeted him with his usual unnecessary cheerfulness. "Avon! Good. We've got a trace of a weird signal. Can you help Zen decode it? Nice trousers, by the way." 

"I didn't think you'd be allowed to notice." Naturally Avon had worn them in the hope that he would. 

"Both notice and appreciate," Blake said cheerfully. "You shouldn't jump to conclusions." 

"I think they're a bit overdone," Jenna said. "Dare I ask which of us you're trying to impress?"

"Impress probably isn't the right word. I think he's aiming more for frustrate." Blake said. "The signal's on your console, Avon. Let me know if you can make anything of it. "

A short time later Avon reported back to the others. "It's a brief message on automatic repeat, and in four different codes which suggests that the person broadcasting knows nothing about keeping ciphers secret. It uses Federation Standard alphabet so we might assume the original message was in something resembling Standard."

"How long will it take to decode properly?" Blake asked. 

Avon decided to ignore the criticism implied by that 'properly'. "Hours rather than days, I hope. Is there any reason why I should be bothering to do it at all?" 

"It's coming from the general direction that we were headed for anyway. I'd like to know what it's about." Blake said 

"Ah well, satisfying your idle curiosity is obviously the best possible use of my time. I'll get straight onto it." Avon was a little curious himself, to be honest. 

"I'll give you a hand," Vila offered, rather to his surprise. " I've done a bit of code breaking in my time."

It would be quicker with two, and it was about time that the thief did something useful. They decamped to a side room to be uninterrupted. 

"We need a letter frequency table," Avon said. "I don't suppose you have one memorised?" 

"A what?" Vila asked. 

Avon sighed and briefly explained what he was talking about. 

Vila blinked. "Well, I suppose you could do it that way," he said dubiously. 

"So how would you break the code then?" Avon was feeling irritable today for some reason

"I'd figure out what the message was about," Vila said cheerfully. 

"If we knew that we wouldn't need to break it."

"Not what's in it. What it's about."

It was odd to see Vila confident and energised. "Go on then."

"Right. Well, it's not for one particular person, because they'd only need one code. It's not for just anyone or they wouldn't use codes at all. It's confidential, which means that the information's valuable to someone else. We're talking about people who have developed four different codes so either they are astonishingly secretive or different groups don't trust each other."

"Whoever sent this has access to all four codes but knows his targets only know one each. You said using the lot meant they didn't understand security, but I'd guess anyone who knows all four of these codes understands it just fine. They are just really desperate. "

"A dozen words on repeat - I think it's a distress call, but someone out there isn't supposed to know they are in trouble. Maybe they are just paranoid about outsiders but maybe they have some nasty enemies."

He nodded at the recorder. "Bet you a hundred credits you'll find 'danger', or 'help' or both in there."

With two words nailed in all four codes Avon was able to direct Zen to untangle the rest of the message in short order. "That," he said reluctantly as they waited for the result, "was surprisingly efficient."

Vila looked at him sideways. "We can say it was you. I don't mind."

"No, I imagine you don't." Avon said. "If Blake finds out you're not as stupid as you like to appear it's goodbye to the easy life." 

"I was thinking of you!" Vila protested. "It might impress Blake." 

"And why would I want to impress Blake?" 

Vila shrugged. "How would I know? I didn't pick those trousers. I could guess though, if you'd like."

"No, thank you." Avon said. "To both the guess and the credit. You'll just have to suffer through your public adulation." 

 

 

_Urgent. Cone is shrinking. Magriqqe in danger. We need help. Beware the Carthens._

"No trace of any of those names in nav records," Jenna confirmed. 

"Magriqqe could be a local name for their planet," Blake said. 

"Or it could be that the sender's pet heap of sand is looking a bit off colour." Avon countered. "Either way, it's not directed at us."

"It's a distress call." Blake said. "And _Liberator_ will respond. Find out where it's coming from and we'll take a look." 

The broadcast stopped before they could do more than identify the system, which turned out to be named in the charts only as XCF73. There was a single mention in the records of a long ago colony but it seemed that no-one had ever visited or traded with whoever were still there. 

When they got there they found a dozen sizeable habitat satellites circling a frozen world in an otherwise empty system. Scans of the planet showed what seemed to be the remains of a recent civilisation but no life, while the habitats each appeared to have populations in no more than hundreds at most. 

One of the larger habitats was surrounded by a forcefield. There were a handful of small in-system ships inside it and a large mass of automatic weapons arrayed just outside. 

"What's the betting that's Magriqqe and the Carthens?" Vila said. No-one wanted to take him up on it. 

"We'd better sent a message to let then know we're here," Blake said. "Avon, can you and Vila encode it?"

_This is Unaligned Ship Liberator._ Blake had objected to 'unaligned', preferring 'rebel' but the others had persuaded him that without knowing anything about this system's relationship with the Federation it would just confuse the issue. 

_We have decoded your distress call. Can we be of assistance?_

A few minutes later a coded message came back. _We need technical assistance urgently. The cone is shrinking. We cannot lower the field while the Carthens blockade us._

"Can we destroy the weapon systems?" Blake asked Jenna. She squinted at the screen. 

"We can, but not cleanly. It could leave so much debris around the satellite that it might be years before their shipping lanes are safe."

"Teleport, then," Blake said. "Avon, can we teleport through that thing?" 

"We could," Avon said without enthusiasm. "But I strongly advise against it. We know nothing of these people or their enemies." 

"They need help and we need allies," Blake said. "That's enough for the moment. Technical assistance would be you and I, Avon. Will you come?" 

Avon was tempted to refuse, but in the mood he was in sitting around waiting for Blake to return sounded even more annoying. "I suppose we might as well get this over with." 

"Thank you," Blake said with every appearance of sincerity. "Jenna, keep the ship away from trouble. Vila, communications. Gan, can you operate the teleport please." 

Passing through the rec room, Avon was reminded of something he'd been intending to say. "I presume the liberation of those chairs for the general cause of the Revolution means that you've given up on the idea of a date?"

"Not at all," Blake said. "On further consideration I thought it would be more appropriate somewhere other than my quarters. Whenever and wherever you like; just let me know."

"I'm not dating you," Avon said. "Firstly the idea of two grown men pussyfooting around like that is ridiculous and secondly I'm not interested."

Blake managed not to look devastated at this news. "In that case shall we get on with the mission?"

They teleported into the satellite habitat, and, rather to Avon's surprise, managed to make contact and get themselves taken to the people in charge without anyone getting shot. Magriqqe had a council of ten, they were told, but a woman called Jenth gave every appearance of making all the decisions. 

There was indeed a cone. It was slate grey and about twenty five feet high and thirty feet across at the base. It sat in an otherwise empty hangar. Avon walked around it, seeing no features except what appeared to be the outline of a human sized door halfway up one side. 

"What does it do?" Blake asked. 

"It doesn't do anything," Jenth said, "But now it's getting smaller." 

Blake frowned. "How much smaller?" 

Jenth pointed down where the cone sat on the floor. All the way round was a couple of centimeters' wide sunken gap where some kind of tiled flooring showed through and then the edge of the dirty hangar floor. The cone must have sat in the same position for years and now, sure enough, the base was getting smaller.

"We discovered it was contracting five days ago," Jenth said. "Since then the gap has doubled in size, and the height too is reduced. Can you help us? "

Avon wondered if all _Liberator's_ encounters were going to be this ridiculous. "Maybe it's meant to shrink." he suggested. "If you don't know what it does, how would you know any differently? And what's on the other side of that door?" 

"There is no door," Janth said. "And it must not shrink. You promised to help us. Do so." 

From Blake's quick look in his direction the man was just as unimpressed with that tone as he was. Avon brushed his hand over the reassuring weight of the gun at his side. 

"I understand your concern," Blake said, "But we haven't come across anything quite like your cone before. Until we study your records and run some tests we won't know if we can help or not." 

"Of course," Janth said, smiling. Her peremptory tone seemed to have vanished as quickly as it had come. "We can't expect you to work miracles, after all. I'll get my assistant to gather all the records for you and in the meantime if you come with me I'll try to explain why the cone is so important for everyone in this system." 

Blake looked relieved which was odd because Avon didn't feel remotely reassured. There was a small wars' worth of armaments aggressively circling this satellite and nothing the Magriqqe had said since they arrived had made any sort of sense. The pointlessly shrinking cone seemed harmless compared to its keepers. 

He walked around the cone again. There was even a sunken handle where you might expect one to be. They might have simply claimed that they couldn't open it, but no, Janth had said there was no door. 

"Avon," Blake called from the hangar exit. 

Avon made a rapid decision. He lifted his bracelet to his mouth but before he could start to speak the world plunged into darkness. 

 

Avon woke in acute discomfort and to absolute blackness. He was hanging by his wrists and his shoulders were killing him. 

After a moment he realised that his legs were touching the floor. He managed to get them underneath him and stood up, relieving the pressure on his aching arms. 

"Are you all right?" Blake's voice came from close beside him. From the way it echoed they were in some kind of small chamber. 

"Evidently not. I don't appear to be injured, however." 

"There's a bench over here. You don't have to stand." 

Avon turned to the direction of the voice and stumbled into first Blake and then the curved bench. It was short enough that he had to squeeze up against Blake but it was at least a chance to sit down within the reach of the rope or chain or whatever was attached to some point above them. 

"Do you happen to know where we are and why?" he said once he'd got himself settled. It was uncannily dark. 

"I expect you can guess where we are, " Blake said. 

Avon hadn't guessed but it was obvious with barely a second's thought. "In the cone." 

That made "why" superfluous. The habitat dwellers were clearly insane. "What do you think happens next?" 

"It eats us, supposedly," Blake said. "They've been feeding their own people to this thing ever since it appeared a few decades ago but since rendering their planet uninhabitable in a religious disagreement they've been rather short of candidates. They've now decided that it's shrinking because it's underfed and if we can't solve their problem one way they'll make use of us in another."

Avon considered that with a severe lack of enthusiasm. "I suppose you didn't think to contact _Liberator_ instead of studying local religious practices?”

“They took the bracelets.”

“Why on earth did you let them? You had a gun.”

“They had a hostage,” Blake said. “I wasn't planning on going back without you,” 

Avon let that particular piece of irrationality pass. “So what about the Carthens?"

"Apparently the other factions got together a few years ago and decided the Carthens were the most expendable. After a dozen of them ended up where we are now the Carthens decided they didn't much like that idea and they've been fighting back intermittently . The other factions are in a very loose and suspicious truce, with the Magriqqe priests in control of the cone. "

"When you say it eats us, I presume you don't mean literally?" 

"Apparently so. According to Janth, the cone eats people's bodies between an hour and two after they are placed inside, leaving anything indigestible like clothes and belongings behind"

"And how long have we been in here? "

"About an hour and a half, at a guess, " Blake said steadily.

"Maybe this thing will finds us entirely indigestible. If I stood on this bench my hands could reach to your wrists." 

"Try by all means, but they welded these cuffs closed. I don't think we're meant to get out of them." 

Avon spend the next few minutes confirming what Blake had said. He even, with great difficulty, managed to climb onto Blake's shoulders which was not remotely comfortable for either of them, but the chains continued upwards towards the apex of the cone, well out of reach. 

"I had a long time to explore while you were unconscious", Blake said. "The door is locked and there's nothing else in here except the bench and the chains."

They tried shouting and kicking the semi-metallic rock walls but there was no sound from outside. Eventually they ran out of ideas and energy, and sat down on the bench, squeezed up against each other in a way that that made Avon rather wish he'd worn some trousers a little less tight that day. 

Waiting for whatever would happen next. He found that thought highly disconcerting and cast around for distraction. 

"How many times has one of us come close to death in the past month?" he asked. 

"Is that a rhetorical question?"

"No, I'd like you to do the sums. if you haven't got anything better to do?"

Silence for a while, then Blake said "Thirteen. No, fifteen. I'd forgotten that the ship tried to kill us when we first came on board. Why?"

"The chances of us making it this far were slim, and if we survive this I see no reason why our lives should be significantly safer in the near future. The entire Federation military are out to kill us and you will insist on taking ridiculous risks for the benefit of murderous strangers."

"Possibly," the voice in the dark conceded. "I suppose that you want out, once we get out of this. I can't really blame you for not wanting to take any more risks." 

"You've missed my point entirely." Avon said, annoyed. 

"I have? What was it, then?"

"My point," Avon said, "is that the chances of both of us actually making it as far as a fifth date are so slim that I do not feel it at all reasonable for you to continue to insist on the first four. "

There was a pause. 

"You want me to give up my principles." Blake said. Avon couldn't read the tone in his voice. 

"Not all of them. Not even all of the stupid and illogical ones. Just the particular stupid and illogical one that stops you kissing me."

"I thought you weren't interested."

"Don't pretend to be any more unobservant than you are."

"All right." Blake conceded. "I knew you were interested. I thought you were going to be too arrogant to admit it."

"So did I. I changed my mind. Now are you going to follow suit?" 

There was a silence. "I don't think I can," Blake said finally. "This is too important to me to rush into something I know is a bad idea just to please you. Can't you at least try to do it my way?" 

"You don't want to get to know me any better." Avon insisted. " Trust me, that wouldn't help either of us." 

"I suppose this means you don't want a relationship. Just sex." Blake sounded a touch bereft. 

"Of course I want..." Avon paused, hearing his own voice rise, got a grip and went on more calmly. "I have just about managed to grasp that you're not interested in casual sex. That's not going to be a problem. The problem is that I am not your soulmate, or your best friend or whatever else these bloody dates are meant to establish. You and I are who we are, that's all."

"It sounds to me as if you're unwilling to commit," Blake suggested. 

"If by 'commit' you mean jump through your hoops for my reward, then very much so." 

Blake sighed. "I don't think this conversation is getting us anywhere." he said.

There was an even longer silence. Avon could feel Blake's thigh against his, solid and warm. Eventually he took a breath. "What do you want to know?" 

"Sorry?" Blake seemed startled out of his own thoughts for a moment. 

"I'm jumping through your hoop." Avon said. "Do try to keep up. What do you need to know? Which bits of my private life do I have to offer up for this to get anywhere?" 

"That isn't how it's meant to work," Blake said

"Isn't it? Then just tell me whatever it is you want doing and I will do it in whatever way you want it done. And if that isn't good enough for you, I have absolutely no idea what will be." 

" What I want is for you not to think of us getting to know each other first as a pointless and unreasonable imposition." Blake said, rather sharply. 

Avon held onto his temper with difficulty. "Every time I offer you anything you just keep upping the stakes. I will promise to do your dates, if I must and if we ever get the chance. I cannot however promise to stop thinking that they are anything but a waste of time." 

"Then I'm not going to waste your time, or mine, any further." Blake said. "Forget it. We must have been here well over two hours by now. One of us ought to try to get some sleep. We could be here for a long time."

"You sleep then," Avon said. He certainly wasn't likely to under these conditions. 

Blake did go to sleep, much to Avon's disgust, his head resting tilted against Avon's own and crushing his ear a little uncomfortably. Avon listened to the steady, relaxed breathing and thought about how this was as close as they were likely ever to come unless the bloody man stopped asking for the impossible and settled for just everything Avon didn't want to give him. 

For a minute or so he thought about giving up but the rest of the universe seemed a particularly empty and uninteresting place compared to the thought of a bed with a naked Roj Blake in it, and besides, _Liberator_ was not something that he was prepared to walk away from.

He could lie, he supposed. He could pretend to think that making small talk with Blake across a table, maybe sharing a bottle of wine, was his idea of an enjoyable evening. 

He couldn't, though. He might manage it once, maybe, but not half a dozen times. The whole thing would absolutely drive him up the wall and he would inevitably end up ripping Blake and his idea of suitable dating chitchat to acid-burned shreds. 

 

Avon was still pondering the problem when there was a loud hum and he was falling backwards with Blake on top of him. Then there was a brief and not unenjoyable period of disentangling, during which he realised that they were both naked and no longer tied up. 

Blake rolled off him. "Sorry." 

"I didn't actually mind," Avon said. He got to his feet, rubbing the sore patch on one wrist. 

They were on a plain of purple grass growing up to their waists. Around them were hills that were either low or far away. A small bluish sun shone low in the sky. 

"Some sort of long distance teleport," said Blake, unnecessarily. "Better than being digested, I suppose."

"Oh much better. Here we can die for all sorts of reasons," Avon said. "Thirst, hunger, exposure, wild animals, poisonous plants, hostile natives - we have nothing, Blake. No bracelets, no weapons, no food or water. No clothes." 

"We'll manage," Blake said. He was looking somewhere over Avon's shoulder. Avon turned, saw nothing of interest and snorted in realisation. 

"You can look at my face even when I'm naked. Your cult allows that, as far as I know. Or would you like me to don a veil?" 

Blake scowled at him. "There's a gap in the hills that way. There might be water and a settlement. I'll go first. Please try to keep a proper watch. As you say, there could be anything out here." 

If Blake thought that the sight of his naked rear would be any less interesting to Avon than his front he was seriously mistaken. As the walk dragged on without incident or them seeming to get any closer to their goal, Avon found himself spending less time looking around him and more time watching Blake's thigh muscles flex as he pushed through the fairly sparse grass and running all sorts of potential arguments that he feared weren't going to be good enough to persuade the man to co-operation through his head. 

The air was warm and the grass was slightly scented. If only they could find water, and food, and some sort of shelter, he could think of far worse places and company to be in. No obvious dangers- at that he remembered to look around, and saw the riders coming towards him barely a hundred yards away.

“Blake!” he called out urgently and turned to face the oncoming group. 

There were three of them, dressed in bright fabric. Avon saw that their bodies twisted oddly from side to side as they approached. As they came to a stop a few yards away he could see the shape of their dark-scaled mounts snaking through the grass. 

The youngest rider, somewhere in her teens, glared at him in a way that made him wish he'd found a pointed stick at least for defense. 

“You're not even Carthen!” Her voice was shaking with emotion. She yanked the reins and he could see her long lilac hair twisting behind her as the snake undulated away.

“Forgive her,” the older woman said. “We all pray that the cone will send us our loved ones and she was the last before you to arrive. Welcome to Renewal." She slid off her snake's saddle and unpacked two loose robes and belts for them. "What clan are you?”

“We're offworlders,” Blake said, pulling the robe on rapidly to Avon's silent disappointment. “We come from Earth, originally, but we have our own ship now. I'm Roj Blake and this is Kerr Avon.” 

“Salieth,” the woman said. Her hair was long as well, dyed green. Avon guessed that she was somewhere in her forties. She gestured at the bearded man of similar age. “And this is my partner Dwei. We have been here for fifteen years and we have particular responsibility for helping newcomers settle down with us. It might be a bit more difficult for you, with no clan to call on, but be sure that we and the whole community will do everything we can to welcome you.”

“Thank you,” Blake said sincerely. “But we can't stay, I'm afraid. We have responsibilities of our own, very serious ones, and we need to get back to our ship.” 

Salieth and Dwei exchanged worried looks. “I don't know if that will be possible,” Dwei said. “We will have to consult with the others. Will you ride back with us now?”

The snakes were a surprisingly smooth ride, if one could get used to the constant switching from side to side, and no particular skill was necessary to stay in the seat behind each rider. Avon found the steady curving movement soporific and he kept nodding off. It had been a very long day.

Eventually they came to a wide river with a dusty path running beside it. The snakes went faster in the open, their flat heads right down against the ground. There were crops now, and farmsteads, and some fenced off areas with flocks of grey and white furred animals. They frequently passed cave-like artificial shelters and Avon spotted the odd flat snake head emerging to watch them with its multiple eyes as they went past.

After maybe three or four miles of farmland the small town appeared ahead of them. Pink single storey stone structures were arrayed in neat rows with the ample space around each planted with what might have been alien flowers or vegetables. The streets were wide and mostly empty, the few walkers each raising a hand to salute the riders. 

They dismounted in front of the only two storey building where the girl from Carthen had apparently been waiting for them. She glanced at Avon sideways, muttered something that might have been an apology and led the mounts away.

“There's a guest room attached to the council building,” Dwei said. “If you want to rest and eat, we can talk in the morning.” The sun was close to setting by now. 

Avon was about to accept with relief but Blake was frowning. “We don't have time,” he said. “It's very urgent that we contact our ship.”

Dwei shook his head. “We don't communicate with anyone off world.”

“In that case how do you account for the superluminal radio antenna on top of this building.” Avon demanded.

“That's in readiness for when the cone gives us the sign,” Salieth said. “Until then the others must not know that we are here.” 

“Why on earth not?” Blake asked. “If your people knew about Renewal surely they could all use the cone to join you here?”

“We don't dare take the risk,” Salieth said. “The priests of Magriqqe might do anything to keep their control over the people at home, even destroy the cone. At the moment some people do at least get here. If things go wrong they could be cut off forever. We trust the cone and wait for our sign.”

“Blake,” Avon said quietly. “I need to consult with you. Alone.”

Blake glanced at him then at the others. “We don't have any secrets from these people, Avon.”

Damn. Well, there was nothing for it, he supposed. “What do you think Jenna is doing right now?”

He saw realisation dawn on Blake's face. “Oh hell.” Blake turned to Salieth. “When our shipmates find out that the Magriqqe have used the cone to execute us, they won't just turn round and leave. You have to let us contact them before they make a terrible mistake. "

“All the factions would come together to protect the cone,” Salieth said.

“All the factions won't be enough.” Avon said. “Your ships barely have interplanetary capacity,. _Liberator_ is orders of magnitude faster and more powerful than anything in that system.” 

“But we haven't had the sign,” Dwei said helplessly. 

“We are your sign,” Avon said. “The cone started to shrink, the Magriqqe sent out a call for help, we responded and it sent two offworlders here. How much clearer a sign do you think it's going to send you?”

“It's shrinking?” Dwei said, horrified.

“Yes.”

It didn't take much more argument after that. Avon and Blake were offered supper while the technical staff were rounded up and set to work. Within half an hour or so they had an open communications link and Avon was typing in the code that would find _Liberator_ if it was anywhere nearby. The Renewalists were certain from astronomical observations that Renewal could not be more than a few star systems away from their origin.

“ _Liberator_. This is Blake. Come in _Liberator_ ”

“Blake?” Avon could hear Vila's startlement. “We were told you were dead!”

“No need to sound so disappointed.” Blake was smiling now. “Avon and I are both fine. Where's _Liberator_?”

“We left XC whatever it was a couple of hours ago. I suppose you want us to come back for you?”

“We're not there.” Blake said. “You'll need to trace this signal to find us. You didn't cause too much havoc in that system, did you?”

“Oh no. We were very restrained. We couldn't see the point since you were already dead. But we did blow up that awful cone thing.” Vila said cheerfully. “What an explosion that made!”

There was a wail of anguish from beside Avon. “Lost forever!” Salieth mourned. “We will never see any of them again.”

“How many people are left at XCF73?” Blake asked her. 

“Over five hundred. How could the cone let you bring us such disaster?”

“Listen, Salieth.” Blake said. “The cone is not the only way to travel here. If you let us help you then all your people could be here within days.”

It took a while to persuade Salieth that what Blake was offering was possible. Then she had to persuade the rest of the colony's leadership. Eventually a relay was set up via _Liberator_ so that the Renewalists could talk to the utterly disarrayed, demoralised and now astounded XCF factions and at that point Avon announced that if someone would kindly find him a bed he was going to sleep for at least ten hours.

He and Blake were shown to the shared room set aside for new arrivals.

“Do you want the bath first,” Blake asked. He must have been as exhausted as Avon but for men who'd walked miles barefoot the large tub of steaming hot water was irresistible. 

“It's easily big enough to share,” Avon pointed out. 

“Please don't start.” Blake said. 

“Suit yourself,” Avon started to untie the belt round his waist. Blake turned his back.

“Seriously?” Avon demanded. “You're that offended by nudity?”

“I'm not offended at all,” Blake said. “That doesn't mean that I want to look at you right now.” He lay down on one of the beds and closed his eyes.

Avon snorted and lowered himself into the hot water with a sigh of pleasure. After a few minutes he said “I'm going to miss those trousers.”

“You only wore them once,” Blake pointed out. “There are plenty more in the wardrobe room.”

“Yes,” Avon agreed. “But I particularly liked the effect those ones had.” 

“You never give up, do you?” Blake sounded definitely exasperated. “Just let it go. Please.”

“If you didn't want something to happen then what I say wouldn't bother you.” Avon said, slightly smugly. 

“What I want is not the only significant thing here.”

“It is to me,” Avon said. “You're meant to be a rebel, a free thinker. We're not under the Dome any more. Why are you still a slave to this stupid ideology?”

Blake had rolled up onto his feet to glare at Avon in the bath. “I'm not a slave to anything, including lust. The fact that you've got no respect at all for my principles just confirms that my decision's the right one.”

“So I'm not a faithful acolyte? Well, I'm sure there will be plenty of those lining up to service their leader.” Avon snarled back. “Is that more your idea of a meaningful relationship?”

Blake sighed and turned away again. “We're both very tired. It's been a hellish day. We can talk about this some other time.”

“I think we should talk about it now.” Avon heaved himself dripping from the tub and walked over to slam the bolt shut on the door.

“Don't try to bully me, Avon. Have you finished with that bath?”

“I'm surprised you find it appropriate to undress in front of me.” Avon said.

“I don't. But I need to get clean and I doubt that you'll do me the courtesy of turning your back.” 

Avon gave him what was meant to be an utterly withering look and turned around. 

“Thank you,” Blake said. Avon could hear him getting into the water. Thanks to the events that day he needed very little imagination to picture the scene in some detail. He grabbed for one of the clean robes left out for them, being far from certain that Blake would be dutifully averting his eyes. He was pretty sure that flaunting a visible erection would be the final nail in the coffin of his chances. 

“That was quick thinking about the sign,” Blake said from behind him. 

Avon wasn't feeling at all like being buttered up. “They are a superstitious cult. Easy enough to manipulate. You should feel right at home.”

“I don't think they are,” Blake said. “Superficially, perhaps, but what they really cared about was getting to see their friends and families again, not the cone itself. That seems quite rational and laudable to me. You take people at face value, Avon, because you can't be bothered to try to empathise.”

“So you do want to talk about this now?” Avon said. “Or is it only my faults up for discussion?”

“There's really nothing more to talk about. I've made my position clear. You seem to think that you can pester me into sleeping with you, which to be honest I am finding more than a little offensive. I would like you to respect my decision and stop.”

With something of an effort of will, Avon managed to restrain himself from saying what he was thinking, which was that Blake was a self-righteous prig. Instead he spoke to the wall in front of him. “Tell me that you have absolutely no desire to have sex with me and I can assure you that as far as I'm concerned the matter will be closed for good.”

He could hear Blake's gritted teeth. ”I'm saying no, Avon. And believe me, that had better be an end to the matter.”

And since Avon could find nowhere to go from there, for the momemt it seemed to be.

 

When Avon awoke, the other bed was already empty. There were clothes set out next to his bed; rather more garish than he would have liked but at least a short belted shirt and leggings felt like something other than a dressing gown. 

He went in search of breakfast and found the council building buzzing with people, most of whom he hadn't met the night before. Someone pointed him in the direction of a room with a buffet and he helped himself to the most palatable looking of the exotic dishes and wondered where Blake had got to.

That was answered fairly swiftly when the man himself came striding down the adjoining corridor. He put up a hand to acknowledge Avon but didn't stop talking intently to Dwei as he went past. 

That turned out to be pretty much the order of the day. When Blake did stop briefly to talk to Avon he explained that he was sorting out the arrangements for _Liberator's_ voyage but from what Avon overheard Blake was doing a great deal more than that. He seemed to be trying to organise the social structures of the combined colony. Avon thought it somewhat presumptuous of him, but when was Blake never presumptuous?

Avon found himself something to do as well, talking to the technicians about their highly limited computer systems and how they could be improved. He was vaguely aware of more people and noise as the day went on, but it wasn't until he went outside mid afternoon for a break that he discovered that half the colony seemed to have already arrived in the small town with more on their way. There were makeshift tents going up and people squeezed into every dwelling with friends or relatives or clan members. 

At least with accommodation at a premium it was unlikely that Blake would be able to request a separate room, Avon thought, with some satisfaction. 

By the evening there was an air of carnival about the place. A somewhat subdued, uncertain carnival, but people were meeting up who hadn't seen each other for a long time and there was the hope, if not yet quite the expectation, of more reunions when _Liberator_ arrived. At the same time people were still talking in low tones about the report of the cone's destruction.

By nightfall the party atmosphere was winning out. Avon found himself seated next to Blake at a jerryrigged huge table, covered with meats and vegetables that he had no way of recognising but that he presumed must be edible by humans since humans around him were eating them.

Blake was still talking volubly to anyone in earshot except him. Avon was quiet, ate a little and wondered what they had got themselves into.

After the food there was dancing. Avon declined an invitation only to see Blake whisked onto the grass by a young man Avon hadn't been introduced to. He watched Blake swinging around, not ungainly but not exactly elegant either. How the hell he was going to sort things out satisfactorily?

When Blake turned back, somewhat flushed and bright eyed, to his chair, Avon waited out the next set of dances, then fortified himself with a little more of the quite reasonable wine and said to Blake “I take it that dancing is permissible on a first date, then?”

“Is that a serious question?”

“Entirely” Avon said. 

“Dancing is quite acceptable,” Blake said. “Would you like to?”

“It would pass the time,” Avon said, and he pushed away his chair and offered a hand.

It was rustic dancing, the sort where you counted steps and exchanged partners and the nearest you got to full bodily contact was a linked arm. Still, Avon found that he rather enjoyed it, at least the bits where he was dancing with Blake and not some random Renewalist. And if it wasn't getting him anywhere nearer getting the man in bed, well, it certainly wasn't getting him any further away. 

They got laughed at good naturedly for mucking up the steps on more than one occasion but even that wasn't a particularly aggravating since it wasn't Blake doing the laughing and Avon couldn't care less about the opinion of anyone else on the planet.

Once they'd returned to their place, Avon firmly declined all other offers from prospective partners. Blake didn't; he was on the grassy floor for the best part of the next hour. It seemed to be doing wonders for his stress levels; his smiles at Avon every time he returned were warmer and his conversation more genuinely animated. Avon said nothing about dates or sex or cults all evening and he went to bed alone without complaint.

The next day was similar. Avon spoke to _Liberator_ and confirmed that they were on course to start loading the habitat dwellers by teleport that evening. Each could bring one bag, no weapons, nothing higher than low-to-medium tech. Zen would scan the items as they came aboard. There were some issues with the priests of Magriqqe but, Jenna said firmly, they would all be resolved or she would leave them behind.

In one corner of the town Avon came across a small group of the exiles holding a quiet demonstration against the planned influx, but as far as he could tell everyone else seemed in favour of the idea. By the evening there had been a little more trouble than the day before, even a bit of fighting between some of the clan members. Blake talked about culture shock but as he said to Avon, there was nothing that they could do except trust the Renewalists to sort it out for themselves. That didn't seem to stop him giving a great deal of advice to the locals, Avon noted, but at least no-one seemed to have taken offence yet. 

It was at the second communal evening meal that Avon noticed the teenager from Carthen again, looking solitary and still distinctly unhappy. It occurred to him that although there were small children with their parents he'd seen no-one else anywhere near the girl's age, and he mentioned it to Blake.

“People born here aren't invited,” Blake said. “The only people who have been encouraged to come to the gathering are those who were exiled through the cone and who have come to meet the people they left behind. Everyone else is at home keeping everything running in their absence.”

Avon had been told that there were four thousand people in the small town by now. He looked at the heaving mass of people at the evening festivities and thought about the fact that every single one of them had at some point been chained up in the dark, waiting to die. He wondered just what sort of reception the priests of Magriqqe were going to get when they arrived and whether it would be a good idea for he and Blake to be somewhere else at the time. 

Unfortunately without a bracelet the only way to talk to Jenna was through the rather public radio tower and he didn't think it was a wise discussion to have with the Renewalists listening. He did however mention it to Blake as they arrived back to the privacy of their own room. 

“Ten of them without weapons,” Blake said dismissively. “I don't think they'll be able to do much.” 

He waved Avon towards the refilled bathtub and politely turned his back. There was rather less tension in the room tonight. Avon thought. Blake seemed to have decided that he was going to behave. 

Avon would have liked very much to not behave but he couldn't quite figure out how to do it without losing what small gains he had made in the last day or so. They had danced again several times that evening and Avon had turned down a couple of offers of rather more horizontal dancing from some people who had clearly never heard about slow burning. 

“What they intend to do is not what concerns me.” Avon said. “In fact Salieth and her people tearing them limb from limb doesn't concern me either, as long as we aren't in the way. I think they ought to be the last brought down and I think we ought to leave as soon as they reach the planet.”

“I haven't heard a word from anyone about taking revenge,” Blake said. “I don't think they are that sort of people.”

Avon snorted at that. “Everyone is that sort of people. And just because you haven't heard it doesn't mean that they are not thinking it.”

“I suppose if we bring them down last, almost everyone will be busy with their reunions by then.” Blake mused. “That might reduce the chances of trouble.”

“Exactly. Salieth and her lot can hustle them out of sight quietly and if they never reappear I doubt that anyone will care.”

“You really have a very depressing view of human nature” Blake said. “This is all about reunions and renewal, families getting together again.”

“And what do families do when they get together?” Avon asked. “What you're missing is that every single one of those five hundred people, children excepted, apparently failed to lift a finger to stop the brutal and sadistic murder of every single one of the four thousand people who are going to be waiting for them. I am not at all convinced that this is going to be the delightful occasion that you are anticipating.” 

“You didn't object to the original proposal,” Blake complained.

“You didn't ask me for my opinion before you promised salvation to Salieth and her friends. Given that we were stranded down here, defenceless, and our ship had just destroyed their demi-god, I didn't think that we were in a position to start disappointing them. Anyway it doesn't really matter if all hell breaks loose down here as long as we're safely back on board _Liberator_ before it does.” 

“I can't really believe you're that heartless,” Blake said.

“I did tell you that getting to know me better wasn't going to be a good idea.”

Blake considered him with a frown. “Wouldn't it be smart to at least try to appear more likeable, given what you supposedly want.”

“No 'supposedly' about it,” Avon said. “And unless you've been seriously misleading me, the reason you won't go to bed with me has nothing to do with how nice or not I am. Regardless of which of us is right, there's no reason to stay on this planet a moment longer than we need to, which is only up until the last passengers dematerialise from _Liberator's_ teleport room. Are we agreed on that at least?”

“I want to stay around long enough to see the outcome,” Blake said. “We generated this crisis; we owe them that much.”

“We didn't generate it,” Avon said. “Janth and the shrinking cone did. We merely got kidnapped and very nearly executed, and the reason you want to stay around is to be the hero of the hour. If I were certain that's how it would turn out I'd let you bask in all the adulation you like but I think there's going to be serious trouble and I don't trust you not to dive into the middle of it and get yourself killed.”

“We might get on better,” Blake said, “if you could manage the occasional flicker of respect for me and my decisions.” He sighed. “I suppose we could find an excuse for going straight back to _Liberator_. I can't see any reason for fleeing the system though. They've got no weapon systems or ships, after all.” 

That seemed to be the best that Avon was going to get. He dried himself off and got into bed, keeping his eyes obediently and frustratingly averted from Blake bathing. He was still awake and uncomfortable when Blake started to snore; he took the opportunity to relieve the effect of his explicit thoughts about the body in such close and untouchable proximity. It didn't make him feel much better but it did at least help him sleep.

 

The next day they woke to a horrendous noise coming from the ceiling. Neither Blake nor Avon had encountered heavy rain before and as soon as Avon went outside he very quickly went off the idea.

_Liberator_ was already in orbit though nothing could be seen through the cloud cover. The Renewalists had roped off a large square in a field for the teleport, with a platform and shelter for the waiting dignitaries. Everyone else was crowded on the other side of the rope, in hats and coats and ridiculous looking little personal shelters suspended on sticks above their heads. 

Avon had a short wave radio to talk to the radio tower so that he could relay messages and give instructions to _Liberator_. Right on schedule there was a shimmer in the rain and Gan appeared. He looked around curiously then made for Blake. “Bracelets” he said.

Avon clipped one around his wrist and immediately felt a great deal better. 

“Everything all right” Blake asked quietly.

“Everything's fine,” Gan said. “But we're a bit short-handed up there.”

Avon looked up at the rain and contemplated the desirability of getting out of it. Unfortunately that would leave Blake down here.

“You go,” he told the man. “They doubtless need someone to boss them around up there. Down here it's all Salieth's problem, not ours.” 

Blake eyed him for a moment, then nodded agreement. “Keep an eye out,” he said. “I don't think you're right, but just in case, keep out of trouble.” 

“I'll dive under the table as soon as the fighting starts,” Avon assured him. “You can teleport me up from there.” 

The first group that shimmered into existence in the middle of the field were met with a huge roar of approval. They were all families with small children and by the time they were hustled under the shelter of the small platform the rain had beaten down on their bare arms and thin clothing and started to soak the contents of their netting bags.

Avon made his way through the shivering newcomers to Salieth. “We can move the teleport point to somewhere indoors.” 

She shook her head. “There's nowhere large enough. We can't do this without the witnesses we've invited. I'll arrange for a canopy to be put up here. Can you halt the teleports until we're ready?”

Blake was not happy about the delay. “Things are tense up here. They are crammed into a hold, they were promised they could leave this morning and there's always the prospect of panic if things seem to be going wrong. We need to get them down.”

“Keep teleporting people with no outdoor clothes into a rainstorm and there will be trouble down here. Your choice.” Avon said. 

“We'll hold for a while. Do get them to hurry.”

The canopy turned out to be made up from a couple of the big tents, rapidly taken down and dragged halfway across town by the multi-eyed snakes whose appearance caused near hysteria among the new arrivals. It took the best part of an hour to get the canopy moved and erected. In all that time the size of the soaking wet crowd around the ropes didn't diminish. 

Avon walked over to stand right in the centre of the covered area. “Right,” he said into his bracelet. “Move the teleport co-ordinates to where I am now and you can restart.”

“Good,” Blake said from the ship. “It's getting worse up here. We've had several of the next group refuse to put the bracelets on. We'll tuck them into the later groups when hopefully they are more confident.” 

There was a noticeable absence of cheers as the second group materialised. Avon saw a few people trying to duck under the ropes to come forward. Some of the men who had put up the canopy were acting as ad hoc security to stop them. He didn't like the sound of the raised voices at all.

He made his way over to Salieth again. “Your witnesses aren't going to patiently stay that side of the rope for long and in the next hour or so you're going to have hundreds of very nervous newcomers in here. I suggest that you figure out how to get both sets of people under control or you could have a riot on your hands.” 

She looked around, seemingly noticing the state of the crowd for the first time. “We had better halt the teleports again while we sort something out.”

“No. There are nearly 500 people on our ship and only four crew. We can't afford to risk trouble up there. Those people are all coming down to your planet, Salieth, without any further delays.” 

There were more children in the groups being teleported down. The arrivals huddled under the canopy and stared at the huge crowd who muttered loudly and stared back at them. If there were friends and family on either side of the rope they didn't seem to be making themselves known, possibly because the crowd was too far away to easily identify individuals through the heavy rain.

Avon's bracelet beeped. 

“How are things going,” Blake sounded worried.

“Sometimes I hate being infallible,” Avon said. 

“That bad?”

“Trouble's just a matter of time. I'm waiting for Salieth to tell me how they are going to manage the situation.”

“They mean no harm,” Salieth said, uncertainly. “They are just worried.” She rounded up a handful of the other leaders and they set out in different directions to talk to sections of the crowd. 

There were around forty people under the canvas now, most of them children, and the wet grass was churning into thick mud. Out by the rope people were waving and shouting at the colony leaders. 

“Blake,” Avon said quietly into the communicator. “Can you identify the co-ordinates for the plain where we arrived?”

“Yes. Why?”

“Because putting any more people down here is asking for trouble. Dump the rest of them out on the grassland. They'll get wet but I'd give more for their chances than for the ones already here.”

“Hell, Avon!” Blake said. “We've sent children down there!”

“That might be the only thing that's keeping things from getting messy right now,” Avon said. “Start teleporting down people that the crowd can hate with a clean conscience and everything's going to go pear shaped. I strongly suggest that you move the co-ordinates, Blake. Keep moving it, too, so none of you are teleporting into the middle of an angry crowd. And keep a lock on my bracelet. I might need to dive under a table at any time.”

“Do you need to get out now?” Blake sounded genuinely worried about him.

Avon looked at the abandoned group clinging to their children under the canvas then round at the crowd, noting how many faces seemed to be watching him in particular. It wasn't in his nature to hang around waiting for trouble to begin but if the last representative of _Liberator_ on the planet vanished without explanation it might just be the spark that set off the explosion. 

He might have told Blake that he didn't care what happened down here but he found to his annoyance that he couldn't quite bring himself to start off this particular riot by running away.

“Not yet,” he said reluctantly. “I'm going to see if I can get the families already down here out to somewhere safe. Salieth and her lot don't seem to have any idea what's likely to happen. They're just standing out there debating with the crowd.”

“We'll get the passengers offloaded on the plain as fast as possible,” Blake said, “Then at least you can have back-up. Until then we've got your bracelet locked- just shout, Avon. And do be careful.”

“Always. Avon out.”

He strode towards the new arrivals. “Is anyone in charge here?” he asked.

They looked at each other but no-one spoke up.

“Right,” Avon said. He picked on the tallest man. “What's your name?”

“Reik,” the man said nervously.

“Reik, you're in charge of your people for now. We're going to get you all out of here to somewhere dry and comfortable.”

“What about all the others?” Reik asked, bewildered.

“There's been a change of plan because of the weather.” He gestured vaguely at the mud. “The others are being teleported down to somewhere more suitable. Don't worry, you'll all be together again very shortly.” 

The habitat dwellers seemed to be sufficiently relieved to be told what was happening by someone with some authority that they didn't question the details. Avon had checked out the crowd as he walked over; they completely encircled the roped area. There was going to be nothing for it but to hope that his air of authority and the obvious distress of young children exposed to the rough weather would be sufficient to convince enough of the Renewalists to let them through to the relative safety of the town.

“We're going to have to go out in the rain, I'm afraid” he told the little group. “So we're going to go as fast as possible. Small children will need to be carried. You can leave your bags behind here. They'll be brought to you as soon as we're in the dry again.”

“What about them?” one of the women said. She was staring at the crowd.

“They've stood out for hours in this awful weather to welcome you here,” Avon said, trying to sound cheerful. Blake would be so much better at this than him. “Now they're all soaked through and a bit grumpy about it so they'll be very glad when you're under cover and they can get dry again. Is everyone ready to move?”

He led the group straight back towards the rope nearest the edge of the town at a fast walk. Everyone seemed to be keeping up despite the rain beating down on them. Avon glanced around, checking the movement of the crowd- the bedraggled observers seemed fairly slow to respond. By the time he reached the rope the people in front of them were still only about six ranks deep.

“Excuse me,” he said to the people directly in front of him, lifting the rope and offering it to them. “Would you mind holding this up for us so the children can get out of the rain?”

They did what they were told, as people tend to. Avon ducked under it and started walking steadily through the crowd, holding his hands outstretched in front of him to part them. “Let us through, please. The children need to get to shelter. Let us through, please...”

He was halfway through when the shouts started, from several places back in the crowd. “Murderers! Magriqqe murderers!” 

From around the crowd there came answering shouts “Magriqqe bastards! You're not wanted here!” “Cone killers!” “Take your little bastards home again!” 

Avon kept going, voice steady, “Let us through, please...” The crowd was pushing and surging now but it was mostly behind them. He broke out into the narrow passageway between two picket fences to the empty street and turned to usher the others out. They were all on the point of running now, terrified by the noise and abuse and far more people than any of the children would ever have seen before. 

Reik was bringing up the rear. Avon seized him by the shoulder. “See that high building?” He pointed at the council building showing above the low roofs. “Take everyone in there and lock the doors. Run!” Then he turned back to the crowd. 

The wet faces directly in front of him were more bemused and unhappy than angry and for a moment he thought that he was going to be able to simply stand there and face them down. Then others, more determined, pushed their way through and confronted him.

How long would it take the habitat dwellers to run a hundred and fifty metres through the puddles, burdened with their children? How much longer than that to find their way inside and bolt the doors? He lifted his bracelet to his mouth. “Blake,” he said quietly. “On my signal. Be ready.”

“Halting the other teleports now,” Blake's voice came back reassuringly. “We've got you, Avon. Just say the word.”

“This is your fault,” the man in front said to Avon. “You destroyed the cone. You brought them here. We don't want offworlders or Magriqqe here.”

“Your leaders made the decisions.”Avon said. “Salieth, Dwei, the others- I suggest that you take your complaints up with them.” God knows where they were. He couldn't see past the front of the crowd.

“You brought them here,” the man repeated. “We want them gone, or we'll do to them what they did to us.”

There were audible protests from most of the rest of the crowd at that, but one or two shouts of approval as well. Avon didn't really care what the man said as long as he kept talking. He was counting seconds in his head. Not long enough yet.

“What about the rest of you?” he asked the crowd. Any sort of dialogue would take time. “Are you in favour of killing small children as well? What sort of society is this?”

“They are getting away!” the man in front of him snarled over the confused and contradictory answers. “Get out of my way, offworlder.” 

He stepped forward, fists raised. Still not nearly long enough, Avon thought somewhat desperately and he came forward to meet the clumsy attack. Revivalists weren't fighters, apparently; within seconds the man was writhing in the mud with what Avon sincerely hoped was a broken collar bone.

Avon stepped back to his previous position, blocking the passageway. “Fifteen seconds then bring me up,” he said into the bracelet. He couldn't hear the reply over the noise of the crowd and the screams of the fallen man. The people in front were going to rush him- fifteen seconds was too long but it was too late to call out now as they charged forward. 

It was pure instinct that made him turn and run but it was reason that had him turn to the left as he reached the wider street. If they went after the families he'd get away; if they went after him the others should make it. Nine. Ten, in time with his feet splashing through the water, Eleven, Twelve. The first ones were on him; he turned and attacked, placing feet and fists as hard as he could but there were too many of them and he was dragged down. Somebody kicked him in the head and the mass of legs disappeared as the teleport room materialised around him. 

 

He was lying with his head back and his eyes half closed on one of Blake's chairs in the rec room when the designer himself came over to sit in the other.

“You slept for a long time. How's your head?” Blake asked.

“The med unit claims it's completely fixed but apparently no-one's told my pain receptors.” Avon said. “What's happened down there?”

“The rain stopped, the sun came out and most people came to their senses and went home when they were told to,” Blake said. “The families you got out are all being hosted by respectable fellow clan members- fortunately none of them were Magriqqe. The ones we teleported down to the plain are staying there for now- tents and supplies are going out there as we speak. There's a lot of rapidly recruited security around everywhere keeping a lid on high feelings, which is a new experience for the Renewalists I gather.”

He sighed. “There's a full conference planned for a week's time to discuss all the issues around how the two groups are going to integrate. We are not invited.”

“Why should we be?” Avon asked, puzzled. “It's nothing to do with us.” 

“I know, “Blake said. “It's not just that though, it's ... well, we have been asked to leave, to put it bluntly. Apparently the one thing that everyone down there can agree on is that you and I are to blame for all the trouble and that if we'd just stuck to Salieth's instructions everything would have been fine and dandy.”

Avon snorted at Blake's hurt expression. “I'd get used to it if I were you. There's nothing more effective for bringing people together than agreeing that outsiders are to blame. If you insist on keeping doing this sort of thing we're always going to be the outsiders and it's always going to be our fault. Why are we still in their system at all?”

“I was waiting for you to wake up. I thought you might have something to say to them.”

“That would be a waste of breath,” Avon said. “It doesn't matter what people think.” 

“Sometimes it matters,” Blake said. “I'm sorry, Avon. I was wrong.”

Avon shrugged. “If it hadn't rained so hard you might have had your celebrations. People are unpredictable.”

“Actually that wasn't what I meant, although I was wrong about that too,” Blake said. “I was talking about dating.”

“Oh?” Avon's headache seemed to recede a little.

“I could have insisted that you bare your soul to me a dozen times and I'd never have found out what sort of person you really were. After all I'm pretty sure that you didn't know yourself. ”

“I had a teleport on stand by.” Avon said rather defensively. “There should have been no risk. I just got the timing a little wrong.”

“Would it be so terrible if I thought you were courageous and kind?” Blake asked.

“It wouldn't improve my opinion of your judgement,” Avon said. “I made an error, that's all.”

“An error that won those children just enough time to get to safety.” Blake said. “I prefer to think of you as infallible.” He stood up. “I'll tell Jenna we're getting out of here.”

Avon watched him walk towards the door to the flight deck. “Blake?”

Blake stopped. “Yes?”

“Just out of curiosity, if we're not arguing about doing dates any more what are we arguing about? "

Blake grinned at him. “Do you know, I haven't had time to give it any serious thought. Why don't you come round to my quarters later and we can discuss it?”

 

A few hours later Avon was eyeing the chair that he was being offered in Blake's sitting room with strong disapproval. “I assumed that “discuss matters” was a euphemism for “have sex”. I do hope that I'm not going to be bitterly disappointed.”

“I was going to lead up to that gradually,” Blake said. “I had the conversation all planned out.”

“You can do that later,” Avon told him. “Hopefully I'll be sleeping the sleep of the totally shagged out by then and will be saved the trouble of listening.”

For a moment he thought he'd gone too far, then Blake laughed and opened the inner door. “Bedroom, then.” And as Avon went through the door he found himself swung round by the shoulders into a kiss. 

Avon had vaguely assumed that Blake would still need some encouragement once they'd got this far. He should have realised that once Roj Blake had committed himself to anything the problem was usually more to do with holding him back. After several minutes wrapped up in each other they broke for air.

“Would you undress for me?” Blake asked. 

Avon started to comply, watching Blake's eyes flicker eagerly back and forward between his body and his face. He sat down on the bed to pull his trousers off and lay back as he finished, his erection aching to be touched between his spread legs. “Now you.”

Blake started to pull his own clothes off, carelessly and with a noticeable lack of grace. Avon could have happily watched it for hours. Eventually Blake came forward naked to kneel between Avon's knees. 

“You're very quiet,” he said.

Of course Avon was quiet. He was hardly going to risk saying the wrong thing at this point and there was a strong chance that his idea of the appropriate things to say during sex and Blake's might be completely different. “Were you expecting compliments?”

“Quite the opposite. I'm not objecting. I suspect that silence might be a sign of sincerity. I'd like you to speak up enough to tell me what you want me to do, though.”

“Anything,” Avon said. “Quite literally anything, as long as it's sex with you.” 

He could read doubt in Blake's eyes. Avon tried again “Do you really think I'd say that if I didn't mean it?”

“No,” Blake said, his face clearing. “No, you wouldn't.” He reached out to run his hands up Avon's thighs. “In that case I think we should definitely have some fun.” 

Avon had been entirely sincerely in his claim. Not only was he up for almost anything by now on his own account but he was aware that Blake's unexpected volte face had been caused by an impression of Avon's nobility of character that would undoubtedly be painfully disproved sooner or later. The main purpose of these encounter, even more than having fun, must be to get the man coming back for more regardless and if that meant catering to Blake's every fantasy now then Avon was quite determined to do that with vigour. 

Fortunately Blake's fantasies, at least the ones he was willing to reveal just then, were both straightforward and mutually enjoyable. He liked being both on top and in charge, both of which Avon could have predicted easily enough, and he seemed intent on breaking through Avon's composure to wring involuntary noises from him. Avon was determined to make the latter as difficult as possible, mostly because it kept Blake trying. 

He was lying face down on the bed, Blake's cock sliding over the small of his back and the man's tongue against the back of his neck. He was just about keeping it together when Blake bit him in the nape and there was no way in hell that he could repress that groan. 

"Gotcha!" Blake said, satisfied, and did it again. 

"You could stop playing games and fuck me," Avon lifted his head from the pillow to make the suggestion. 

"I could indeed." Blake licked a long stripe all the way down his spine and Avon's hips ground his erection into the bedcover as he groaned again. "Blake..." 

Firm hands tugged his hips upwards until he was on his elbows and knees. A hand caressed his arse. 

"I honestly thought we'd never get this far, " Blake's voice came from behind him. 

"Not for want of trying at this end," Avon said. "You were the stubborn one.

"I had good reasons," Blake said. 

"I'm sure you thought you did. And we could discuss those reasons in detail now, or you could concentrate on taking me hard right now. My vote goes for the second one." 

"Do you need anything? To be comfortable, I mean?" 

Avon hissed a little in exasperation. "Comfortable is really not high on my list of preferred sensations right now. Come on, man. Don't make me have to beg."  

"I wouldn't do that to you," Blake said. "At least not until I was absolutely sure that you'd enjoy it. Wait a sec." 

Avon counted the seconds impatiently. He was about to turn round and complain of neglect when the fingers returned, oiled now and sliding lightly over his skin and then to his simultaneous relief and pleasure firmly up his arse.

" So gorgeous," Blake's voice sounded heavily distracted now. "Oh Avon. So... " But Avon had stopped listening as Blake's cock replaced his fingers and the long desired sensations finally overwhelmed him. 

 

Avon sprawled over the bed, feeling utterly sated. Blake was still stroking him, idly now, fingers surprisingly delicate. 

"Well now. You didn't pick up any of that technique from holding out for an eighth date, I'm guessing," 

"Never going to let that go, are you?" Blake retorted. "All right then, no. I had what seemed like a solid relationship go up in flames. I thought slow burning might fireproof the next one." 

"There's no such thing as fireproof," Avon said lazily.

"Maybe not, but at least it gives you a chance to become friends before all the sex throws things out of kilter." 

“I like the sound of 'all the sex,'"Avon said. “We should definitely go for that.” 

“You do see what I mean about friendship though?”

Avon rolled over to face Blake. “No, I don't. You seem to want someone who you think will be fond enough of you not to want to hurt your feelings. That's a passion killer right there."

"Is it?"

"Judge for yourself. Would you rather be in bed with me or one of your friends?"

Blake was lying back now, eyes closed. "I rather thought you were one of my friends."

"Did you now?" Avon said, genuinely amused. 

"I should have known that you'd never admit to that," Blake said. "I really don't understand why you have to pretend to be cold and heartless all the time."

"There's no room for more than one hero on this ship." Avon said lightly. 

“You were the hero on Renewal. You risked your life.”

Avon snorted. “It was a minor brawl with a bunch of unarmed amateurs with no idea what they were doing. Even if I hadn't been teleported up I'd have come to no real harm. I'd probably have dealt with them myself.”

“You were curled up in a ball with your arms wrapped around your head when we teleported you,” Blake pointed out. “I don't think that's a classic fighting stance.”

“There you go,” Avon said. “You've torpedoed my hero credentials right there. You'd have been nobly striking out left and right while making a moving speech for good measure, and all I did was fall over and get kicked in the head. I intend to vote for you to do all the dangerous stuff in future. I'm sure the others will agree."

"You're right. You're not my friend." Blake said. Fortunately now he sounded amused. 

"Infallible, remember?" Avon said with satisfaction. "Now shut up. I'm going to sleep until I'm ready to have sex again." 

"That's not a bad idea," Blake agreed, curling up close against him.

Avon decided that there were much worse things that a heavy arm across his chest and steady warm breath against his shoulder. So he wasn't what Blake insisting on believing- well, with any luck it might take the man a very long time to throw off his preconceptions and see what Avon was really like. He might even have decided that Avon had enough other things going for him by then. Avon had every intention of showing him some of those things when he woke up again. 

He yawned, wrapped a distinctly possessive arm around the already sleeping man and closed his eyes, even allowing himself the rare experience of smiling broadly since there was no one else there to see.


End file.
